You Know You're In Trouble When
by Epiphany sola Gratia
Summary: After being released by the Seeker, Varric is worried about the direction of events in Thedas. However, what can a dwarven story teller and crossbow master do about it? Set after the end of Dragon Age 2
1. Chapter 1: Varric Asks for a Pony

_**Disclaimer: Varric, Lia and the other characters from the Dragon Age Universe belong to Bioware who are gracious enough to allow me to dabble in their sandbox, for which I am eternally grateful otherwise I would probably need an exorcism to expell all the story ghosts from my head. Please don't call the Coterie on me. I am making no gold off this piece, so I cannot offer them a cut of the proceeds.**_

* * *

**You Know You're In Trouble When…**

**Chapter 1: "…Varric Asks for a Pony"**

When Pentaghast had released him after their "conversation" he had staggered out into the pale winter sunlight from the Old Amell estate. Varric squinted into the gray sky a moment, as thin slivers of light barely penetrated the cloud cover, but even with the light dimmed by the coming dusk his eyes watered and stung after having spent hours being interrogated by firelight.

He felt as if days had passed, he felt the age in his bones after reliving years of his life verbatim on the whims of a total stranger… a very powerful and heavily armed total stranger, no less. A gust of wind felt as though it blew right through him as he shivered and purposely made his way to the nearest stairs in order to reach Lowtown.

There had always been a deep unease within Varric whenever he walked Hightown. He had told himself numerous times that it was the nobles and the pretentiousness that pervaded the air, but that had long since faded in the waning months since the Circle had fallen and the Knight Commander had been defeated. There was very little that delineated Hightown from Lowtown anymore and the nobles even seemed to be slightly stooped-shouldered, as if they somehow expected a blow to fall upon them, boxing their ears. He was reluctant to admit that he missed the attitudes of snobbishness and entitlement, instead of the defeated, hollow looks of men and women who had lost more than they thought was possible. The flagstones were cracked and the rubble still remained. No one could be spared to rebuild the Chantry with all the unrest abroad.

At the top of the stairs a little child was singing a song with a little bowl at his feet, the chorus was a simple plea:

"_A soal cake, a soal cake, please good mistress a soul cake.  
An apple, a pear, a plum, a cherry, any good thing to make us all merry,  
A soal cake, a soal cake, please good mistress a soul cake.  
One for Peter, two for Paul, three for Him who made us all…."*_

The song was a reminder that Satinalia was coming and it would be a mean year in Kirkwall. With no Chantry, there was less help for the poor. There were no longer compassionate sisters ladling soup for the children and the elderly who lacked bread. Children were more openly begging on the streets in whatever corners people refused to chase them from. It had come to the point that they offered to pray for whoever gave them a crust of bread or a little cake to stave off the growling hunger. The nobles in turn humored them, no longer having the sisters to rely on to make supplications on their behalf.

Blondie's clinic in Darktown had died with him and, though space was scarce in the dark corners of the tunnels, no one dared approach the gaping emptiness that had once been a solace to so many, fearing that some magical echoes would find the unwary and bring ill luck. Any other healers had long since abandoned the city for fear of their lives and the vengeance of the Templars who might be left, though Knight Commander Cullen was far more even-handed and reliable than his predecessor. The ill died and pestilence stalked the streets with no way to stem the tide.

"_The streets are very dirty, my shoes are very thin.  
I have a little pocket to put a penny in.  
If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do.  
If you haven't got a ha' penny then Maker bless you." _

The thin voice continued to trill and Varric managed to fish a silver from his pocket. The sad little clink at the bottom of the bowl told him that it was as empty as the child's stomach probably was and he inwardly cursed that he had no more to give. How many brothers and sisters did the little one leave waiting in the dark for whatever he managed to bring home to feed them?

"Do you know who I am, kid?" Varric queried and the child looked warily at him before slowly nodding his mousey head, "I want you to come see me tomorrow. I will have a job for you then. For now, start heading home. It will start to get dark soon and you won't want to be on these streets then."

At first the kid looked about to question, but then he snatched up the silver and ran down the steps past Varric, not arguing against the dwarf's sage advice. Varric watched him disappear into the shadows of Lowtown. He would worry about what job he would scare up for the kid later, there had to be something safe he could have the boy do without too much bother if he put his mind to it.

Once the kid was gone from view, he returned to the mood of foreboding that had clung to him on leaving his generous hostess. Varric could not help but feel chilled; the Seeker's visit only confirmed the rumors that had been haunting the Coterie for months: war was coming.

A war between the Chantry and the rest of Thedas was looming. Tevinter would take advantage of the unrest to assert its power. The Qunari could also decide that the world was ripe for conquest in the name of the Qun while the lesser nations squabbled. Kirkwall was already weakened and he doubted it could ever be revived. He had initially shrugged off and made light of the coming disasters when he spoke of the "brink of war" to the Seeker, but it only hid the deeper worry that such tidings portended.

The dusty streets of Kirkwall became the cradle of the unrest that threatened to tear the world apart and he had been there at its birth. Hell, one might accuse him of being the midwife that had ushered the mewling bastard into the world and smacked its ass to coax forth the roars of indignation that would come. He knew what role he had played in setting the scenes for the onslaught.

"_That is pure vanity, Tethras, and you know it," _he heard his other self inwardly chiding, _"There had been many hands to contribute to this game of cards: like Bartrand, the Arishok, Knight Commander Meredith, that bitchy Chantry sister who wore too much eye make-up…what was her name…? Even Isabela and Blondie made sizable contributions to the carnage…" _He shuddered slightly as the memory of the mage had called forth the memories of the ground quaking when the Kirkwall Chantry erupted.

He sighed, _"All you and Hawke had wanted in the beginning was to make some money. He had wanted it to protect his sister from the Circle… even that intention had become an impossible knot in the Deep Roads. Poor Sunshine! At least she is somewhat safe in the arms of the Grey Wardens, far from the political cesspool of Kirkwall that consumed everything that Hawke loved." _

It didn't seem fair, considering that he had been with Hawke every step of the way, daring him into almost every action, and Varric had not lost nearly as much as Hawke had in the wake of their successful expedition. He had lost Bartrand… if one could consider that a loss…

"_You had losses, Varric. Stop kidding yourself!" _the internal voice snapped at him again_, "By the end Hawke was your friend, they were all your friends! They were the closest thing you had to a family, more than the pompous, money grubbing windbags that share your blood. You lost everyone that mattered to you in this whole mess! Why deny it now and pretend that it meant nothing to you?"_

"Because I am the story teller," Varric muttered aloud in answer, "I am supposed to be on the outside looking in, the observer. If I allow myself to be part of the story… it would be like Bianca all over again. I would never be able to speak it. I would be imprisoned by it. Hawke was my friend and people need to know the important truths under all of my exaggerations. It is how a roguish dwarf like me can protect a Champion. It is my job! It is what I owe!"

"_Bullshit!" _

The internal voice was surly with all the roiling, pent up emotions that Varric had been keeping at bay and which had drifted to the surface as he had told the story to the Seeker.

Varric shook his head as he stalked into the Hanged Man and stomped toward his apartment up the worn stairs at the back of the tavern, "I need to find new friends to hang out with, spending so much time with myself makes for shitty company!"

He had been so distracted by his internal dialogue that he had almost walked right into the young elven guardswoman that waited at the threshold of his abode. He jumped back just as he was about to make impact and cast startled eyes at the face above the shiny dragon-etched breastplate. It was a face he had come to know well in the past year.

"Ah, well Sparrow!" Varric forced a jovial tone as he walked past her and threw himself into a chair at the head of the table in his dining area, "To what do I owe this lovely diversion!"

The young woman looked confused a moment, seeming baffled by his demeanor, but she offered, "The Guard Captain sent me to check on you. She had heard that you had been arrested by the visiting Seeker and wanted to ensure that you returned home. She stated that if you did not return before nightfall on this day, she would extract you from the Seekers herself. I was just about to leave to report back."

"I'm telling you, Lia, I met a woman that scared the piss out of me nearly as much as Guard Captain Aveline herself! That Seeker must be a distant relative or something, because I can't imagine such a pair would exist without being related." He gave the guardswoman a wry grin as he thought of what would have happened if Aveline had tried to take on the Seeker, Penterghast.

Damn, if he could have sold tickets to that type of brawl then he would have been a wealthy man, with the Coterie receiving their healthy share as well.

He had to admit, though, it warmed something inside of him to know that Aveline would have come through for him if he had been unable to placate the Seeker. She was the last tie and was nearly as devoted to Kirkwall as he. She ran what remained of reputable Kirkwall and he managed the tattered scraps of disreputable Kirkwall. There was no Viscount to run the place, but they managed to keep things grinding on.

Isabela had hopped on her ship and took off for distant cities and sandy shores. She would occasionally send him word and a cask of exotic liquor when it pleased her, teasing that she was keeping her skills keen and her blades keener.

Broody had tagged after the Pilot-Whale Prince, offering to help him train men to retake Starkhaven since neither had any reason to remain in the City of Chains. The chains that had held them were long since broken and it had only been their loyalties that compelled them to remain for as long as they had.

Merrill had gone with Hawke. She was someone for Hawke to look after, like he had his sister for so many years. In a way, Varric assumed, Hawke felt as though she was the one mage he had not failed and had managed to protect. There was that deep seated need in Hawke to protect someone, anyone, but how could you protect people from themselves when they were bent on destruction?

"Are you sure you are alright, Varric?" Lia interrupted his musing, still looking worried.

"Sure, Sparrow, sure, nothing ails me that a pint and a good night of sleep can't fix," he reassured her, though he was not entirely sure himself.

Looking into the concerned eyes, Varric remembered the first time he had seen her. She had been a young girl then with a pair of auburn pony tails at the nape of her neck while she sat, lost in some shadowy hall. It was hard to believe that the calm, gentle, wide-eyed girl he and Hawke had rescued from some old ruins was now the guardswoman standing before him.

Aveline had mentored her well and, though she still seemed slight of frame, she could take down a man twice her size. He once saw her gut a rabid mabari without receiving a scratch. She was capable and precise, much like the Guard Captain who had trained her. Unlike Aveline, however, there was no grittiness to Lia. The caring eyes were always gentle when turned to someone who needed help. Perhaps that is what appealed most to Varric, it soothed something in him.

Varric steepled his fingers beneath his chin and looked at Lia appraisingly for a moment before confessing, "Lia, the Seeker was looking for Hawke."

"The Guard Captain suspected as much, which is why she was concerned. She figured the Seeker wouldn't believe you if you told her the truth."Lia nodded, seeming unsurprised.

"And what is `the truth' as you put it, Sparrow?" Varric countered.

"You don't know where the Champion is. The Seekers want to hunt him down, hoping that executing him might appease some of the religious factions that are threatening to pull Thedas apart." She laid out the facts as she knew them, seeming fairly certain of the validity of what she said.

Varric sighed, "What if I confessed to you, Sparrow, that what you believe to be true is not _entirely_ true?"

Lia crossed her arms and cocked her brow before prompting, "What is the `entire' truth?"

Varric gritted his teeth, "It is true that I do not know where the Champion is, but I might know how to find him."

"Even if that is the case," the guardswoman offered, "this does not change the fact that the Seekers are out to get Hawke…you didn't tell them how to find him, did you?

"Come now, you know me better than that. An old storyteller like me can enthrall an audience until they forgot what they were talking about before I started. What is more, I can use it to extract information that might be useful. I do not believe that the Seekers mean Hawke harm, at least not now, but there are things that the Seeker who interrogated me revealed that worry me. It may be wise to find Hawke." Varric explained this with a helpless spread of his fingers, as if appealing or imploring Lia for understanding.

If he had expected Lia to be surprised or pained by his confession he would have been disappointed. Her expression communicated that she had suspected as much already but had not voiced it. Instead of a reprimand he she quietly inquired, "So, are you going to tell the Guard Captain of your plans?"

"No, because if I did she would insist on coming with me, and I do not even want to consider what would happen if we both left Kirkwall. She will keep the stairs together until I come back." He stated emphatically.

"I have to report in," Lia argued, finally allowing a certain amount of distress to color her words, "and you know that she will ask for details of what you said. I can't lie to my superior. She can see through armor, Varric! Besides, you cannot go alone."

"I don't intend to, Sparrow. You are coming with me! Give a written report to your father to deliver to the Guard Captain in the morning outlining our plans. For now, you are going to be too busy making some arrangements for me," it was curious how he could fall into the old habits of orchestrating an expedition as he had often done with his brother. The words flew forth and Lia listened in stunned silence, "I am going to give Elren some letters that he will need to distribute to some of my contacts…now don't look at me that way, it is nothing illegal. These letters will enable him to have access to a fraction of my assets to keep some of my daily operations open. It will keep things running smoothly on my end of things so that our trusty Guard Captain won't run into unpleasantness from the Coterie if the political situations start to deteriorate before we return."

Finally finding her voice, Lia cut in, _"Varric, Guard Captain Aveline will have me drawn and quartered for desertion!_"

The dwarf waved off her concern, "No she won't! I will smooth everything over with her when we come back, don't you worry…now, I am going to need fresh horses. Actually could you get me a pony?"

"You want me to get you a pony?" This whole situation suddenly seemed to be like one of those embarrassing dreams Lia had occasionally and she half expected to look down and discover herself suddenly naked.

"Yes, they work better for dwarves," Varric reassured her as he grabbed a stub of charcoal and began to scrawl a list of things she would need to gather for him as he continued to mutter more for himself than for her.

When he finally handed her the yellowed scroll, she scanned it quickly before questioning, "Alright, the pony I can somewhat understand, but why do you need me to get you a cat?"

"I need a cat for the boy to take care of while I am away," Varric offered, as if that would clear up the confusion…which it didn't.

He added, "Your father will need to provide the boy with an allowance in payment for caring for the cat. I will set up the funds for it here. When the boy comes tomorrow I will leave word with Corff at the bar for the lad to see your father in the Alienage."

"You don't like cats, Varric! Why do you suddenly want one when you are leaving and it will require someone to care for it?"

"I think it will be good for my soul,"Varric said this with a strange gravity that baffled Lia before prattling on, "Now get going, Guardswoman Lia! We have to be out of Kirkwall by daybreak or the Guard Captain may catch wind of our plans and that would probably be less than pleasant."

With this he ushered her to the door and closed it behind her so she could get to work and he could begin drafting the letters he would need to send to his contacts and to a usurer friend who could manage the funds.

Varric needed to find Hawke, he knew this with a grim certainty. If Thedas was destined to implode it would be better for his friend to have a dwarf by his side who was handy with a crossbow.

Then again, if Hawke didn't actually need him, then at least he would have the best vantage by which to see the ensuing struggle and what storyteller could resist that?

"_That is not why you are going on this insane quest, Varric,"_ the inner voice replied knowingly_, "You fear what will happen to Kirkwall if war comes here."_

"This pile of rubble is home, but many of these people are here because they have nowhere else to go. I can't help these people, I can't fix these problems, but I know someone who can shake the foundations of the Fade itself. That is the type of person we need right now!"

"_Fair enough,"_ the voice acquiesced, _"but I do not understand why you need to bring the Sparrow along!"_

At this Varric smiled to himself,"She reminds me of someone I once knew!"

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_***The song lyrics were adapted from the song, **__**"A Soalin'" **__**by Peter, Paul and Mary. It makes reference to an old medieval custom of people paying beggars to pray for the souls of the dead in Purgatory. The beggars would receive small cakes to eat as their fee. (It is believed to be the precursor for "Trick-or-Treating" and also the caroling practices used during Christmas.)**_

_**The story was originally supposed to be a one-shot, secret Santa gift for millelibri at the **__**Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age**__** writer's board. (This one's for you!)**_


	2. Chapter 2: Almost Skewer

You Know You're In Trouble When…

Chapter 2: …You Almost Skewer Your Childhood Crush

Lia was walking through the streets of Lowtown with her arms full of parcels, scraps of paper and one mewling kitten. It had been a trying past couple of hours since Varric had pushed her out his suites with the list of scrawled instructions and supplies. She had to scramble to try and gather all the needful items that he…they would require.

It had been late in the evening and many of the merchants had begun closing their stalls, anxious to go home. They might have been tempted to turn her away because she was an elf, but she wore the recognizable armor of the city guard and that obliged them to remain civil and assist in gathering what she requested of them. In most cases, Lia would have haggled as her father had taught her, but she was in haste as much as they and did not want to inconvenience them any more than she was already. For larger items she gave word that they be brought to the Hanged Man and delivered to Varric that night. Smaller items she slung in her arms and tried to carry them all while maintaining her dignity. For each purchase she crossed the vendors' palms with the appropriate amount of gold from the ample purse that Varric had _thoughtfully _provided in spite of his haste.

From there she had rushed to the stables at the Western gates that led out to the Wounded Coast and the high road to Starkhaven. She arranged for a horse, a pack horse and a pony, per Varric's request. The choices had been few, but one couldn't complain when you had to be out of the city by morning. She gave instructions for the animals to be shoed and prepared for departure just before sunrise the following morning and used up most of the remainder of the gold she had been allotted.

She was walking out of the stable when she noticed the little kitten cowering in a corner of an empty stall. Its coat was completely gray, but the color was so deep that it seemed almost blue and its eyes were a pale blue like an early spring sky. The ears of the beast were folded down so they looked small against his head. It peered at her warily from the shadows.

"Does this kitten belong to anyone?" she inquired over her shoulder to the stable hand, nodding in the animal's direction.

The lad shook his head, "That flea ridden beggar had stowed away in a merchant's wagon from Starkhaven. When they departed for their next destination he was left behind."

"Were his ears damaged? They look so queer!"

"Naw," the young man chuckled, "from what I hear that is common for Starkhaven cats. Their ears are turned down. Perhaps it enables them to ignore the accent…"

"Would it be alright if I took him, then?"

"Sure," he waved her off dismissively, "If that little thing were to stay it would more than likely just end up crushed under one of the larger animal's hooves or run over by a passing cart. There are more than enough strays here to take care of the mice. If you want him, take him!"

Arranging the parcels so that she could balance them on one arm, Lia scooped up the kitten with her other hand. Luckily the kitten complied and did not scurry off, necessitating a chase. However it did squirm periodically and mew pitifully, as if complaining that her greaves offered no softness for it.

"I hope Varric appreciates this…" she muttered, turning her steps toward the Alienage.

The roads between the buildings and the alleyways were completely dark at that point. Night had long since fallen. Occasionally dim candlelight would filter through a window, but those were few. The denizens of Lowtown rarely wasted candles on the darkness and preferred to live their lives in the familiarity of their shadowed dwellings, huddled together around their cooking fires.

City Guards roamed the streets at varied intervals, but it still was not safe for people to wander alone. The thieves and bandits that preyed on the unwary had grown bolder in the months since the Champion departed, like frolicking rats after the loss of a vigilant cat. Many times the Champion had walked the Lowtown streets, assisting the City Guards to keep the citizens safe. He had once been a resident of Lowtown and never forgot the gnawing of hunger in an empty belly and the chill of the skin beneath threadbare clothes. Even when he lived in Hightown, he still preferred to spend his free time in the Hanged Man rather than the more highbrow establishments that the nobles frequented. For all his wealth and prestige, the Champion belonged with the people in Lowtown and they never forgot it. He was _their_ Champion!

Now that he had gone, he left a gaping hole and anxiousness filled the crevices like water pouring into a sinking boat. The whole of Kirkwall seemed darker and more dangerous without him and there were plenty willing to take advantage. The City Guards seemed to be working harder and harder trying to protect people. How could the absence of one man, not even a king or a commander, bring an entire city to its knees?

Lia pondered this solemnly as she trudged. She could see the strain this was having on the Guard Captain. Aveline was precise and demanding, but she also believed in the men and women who served Kirkwall. The entire squad would follow her into the Fade, Lia included, but it was taking a noticeable toll on the woman. Lieutenant Donnic, her husband, seemed to be getting permanent creases in his brow, as well, and often advised his wife to take it easy when he felt they were safely out of earshot and it would not make her seem weak in front of the recruits. It had been a complete chance that Lia had overheard them once when she was approaching the office to deliver a report.

"You must consider the strain to yourself and the child…" she had heard his implore tenderly.

"There is no one else, love," the Guard Captain had sighed, "I cannot step down and I cannot step back…if the other guards were to suspect…what is going to happen to us? We can't keep this up forever…not in these circumstances…"

"We will not be able to continue hiding it in a couple of months…perhaps by then…should we appeal to Starkhaven…?"

The unintentional eavesdropping revealed a very difficult truth to Lia. She knew then the secret the couple had been keeping and delayed telling. She hastily stole away from the door and returned to the barracks, resolving to tell no one, but the reality of the situation worried her just as it worried the Guard Captain and Lieutenant Donnic.

When Varric had spoken of getting the Champion back, Lia had thought of her Captain. It might be a boon to her if he returned and took some of the strain away it might help…

Deep down she knew it could never be that simple. Nothing in her life had ever been that simple, regardless of how she wanted it to be. She had learned that a long time ago when that man had marred her innocence and she promised herself she would never be a victim again because you couldn't always rely on a Champion to save you. Sometimes you had to save yourself…

"_Then why are you doing this?"_ the still small voice at the back of her mind asked.

She had no ready answer for that, other than, _"Because Varric asked me to…"_

In doing this she would be abandoning her post and her duty. When she returned the Guard Captain would demote her or _worse_. All the other guardsmen would either laugh at her or sneer at her for her folly, for that is the only way this could be characterized: FOLLY! These thoughts alone were enough to make her consider returning to the Hanged Man and tell Varric to go leap into the Chains.

The kitten mewed again and she tried to adjust her arm so that it would be a little more comfortable, "How's that?" she asked it, glancing down at it briefly.

She was only a few streets away from the stairs to the Alienage, giving serious consideration to changing course and abandoning the idiocy she was faced with, when she caught sight of a suspicious figure, darting out from an alley and heading quickly in the direction she had been walking. Lia paused slightly, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, but what could she do? Her arms were full of parcels and she had a kitten with her for Varric!

"_By Andraste's Holy Knickers…"_ she swore under her breath, scurrying as stealthily as she could manage by keeping to the shadows without her armor clattering while trying to keep the figure in sight until she could ascertain if he or she was a threat or a thief.

From a distance she saw the figure turn in to the Alienage, pausing briefly and taking a moment to look up at the vhenadahl tree, placing a brief hand on the painted trunk thoughtfully before moving on, and heading toward a dwelling in the corner. The figure quietly edged toward the building, crouching, and made as if to peer in at a window.

"_Must be a thief looking for an easy target,"_ Lia muttered, squatting in an alcove, quietly unburdening herself of the packages and the kitten so that she could free her arms, _"he figured that no one would stop him from robbing some luckless elves…well I have news for you, Serah Thief…you picked the wrong night!"_

She unsheathed the sword from her back and edged forward, being careful not to alert her opponent to her presence. She was not more than four yards behind him when she saw the figure take something from its cloak. A weapon? A flask? She couldn't be sure, but she rushed forward, not wishing the individual to gain an advantage, grabbed him by the throat and used her shoulder as leverage to knock him to the ground, for there could be no question it was a man with the guttural grunt he made as he made impact with the cobbles. There was the small clank of metal hitting the stones, as whatever he had been holding slipped from his fingers and skittered to his right, just beyond his questing reach.

"Do not move or I will drive my sword through your gullet," Lia hissed menacingly as she pressed the sword tip to the stunned man's windpipe.

At that point, the man held up his hands placatingly, palms out, "I am not moving. I have little money, but you can have it. Just let me go…"

"I am not going to rob you, Thief!" Lia spat.

"I am no thief. I live here…or I used to…" the man tried to explain.

Lia viciously shook her head and sneered, "No one lives here…not anymore…not since…" With that she paused, slightly confused as she realized that the voice trying to bargain with her was vaguely familiar. There was something about the timbre.

Carefully she removed the sword from his throat and instead used it to sweep back the hood so she could see the man's face more clearly. In the moonlight that peered down from over the open courtyard she could make out the distinct aquiline nose and amber eyes staring up at her. The hair, though, it was such a pale blond that it was near white, just as she remembered it, always pulled back in a tight braid, showing off the rounded ears that made him stand out as an outsider in the Alienage, regardless of the fact that his mother was an elf.

"Feynriel?" Lia gasped in disbelief.

The young man looked even more confused as he asked, "How do you know me?"

Lia didn't answer initially, other than to withdraw her sword and re-sheath it, trying to get her thudding heart under control.

She had known Feynriel all her life. He had been roughly four years older than her and he had lived in the Alienage with his mother. Though many in the Alienage had shunned him, he had always been good natured. Once, when she was no more than five or six, she had been skipping around the vhenadahl tree when she tripped and scrapped her knee on the stones. He heard her crying, saw her prone on the ground, and he came to her, picked her up gently and carried him to his house where he cleaned her cut and bandaged it, speaking soothingly the whole time. From that moment on, she had been his distant shadow, watching him, but not daring to speak to him.

"You don't remember me," she spoke slowly, "but I am Lia. I am Elren's daughter and I was your neighbor when you lived here."

Then it was Feynriel's turn to sound surprised, "Lia? Little Lia? The girl with the cropped hair in pony tails?"

"Yes," she answered evenly, offering a hand to help him up off the ground. That was when she noticed that what she had originally thought was a weapon was actually an old, brass key. He picked it up off the ground and held it in his hand, seeming slightly uncertain of what action to take next.

Feynriel finally glanced at Lia's armor and asked, "So…you are wearing the dragon armor of a guardsmen…you are a member of the city guard, then?"

Lia nodded, not trusting her voice and unsure of what else to say.

Choosing that moment to interrupt, there was a questioning meow at from behind Lia's heel. She peered behind her to see the kitten, sitting on the ground and staring back at her expectantly. Lia groaned as she remembered all the supplies she had abandoned in the alcove across the courtyard and she reached down to pick the kitten up and turned to retrieve the things she had purchased for Varric.

"A friend of yours?" asked Feynriel quizzically, jogging behind her, but she could not bring herself to reply.

As she began to try and organize the items, ensuring that nothing had been lost or broken in her haste to catch the supposed thief, Feynriel squatted down and started trying to help, handing her items quietly.

"I can manage this," she heard herself snip at him, to which he stood up and stepped back until she once again had all the parcels in her arms. Again she faced him, her arms full and the awkward silence stretched out as she stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"Come," she finally managed, jerking her head toward the door to her home. Feynriel meekly followed, not questioning but allowing her to lead him where she willed.

She kicked the lower part of the door three times, in the best semblance of a knock that she could manage with her arms full. A scuffling was heard from within and her father opened the door, confused, "Lia? Why are you so late? What are you carrying?"

"It is a long story, Da." Lia answered, moving past him, "But Feynriel has returned to the Alienage. He is joining us for supper."

Elren blinked, startled, but extended a hand to the young man that followed his daughter into their home. Feynriel took it with a nod and an apologetic smile as Lia brought all the parcels in and placed them in her sparse room and put the kitten on her small sleeping cot. The animal promptly yawned and curled up on her blankets.

"Why do you have a cat?" Elren inquired, hoping that his daughter would begin explaining soon.

"It is Varric's cat," Lia replied simply, as if that answered everything…which it didn't.

"Fine," Elren acquiesced, scrounging up another bowl from among their belongings and ladling stew into it from the small black cauldron over the cooking fire.

Lia collapsed into a chair by their plank table, her mind swimming and feeling overwhelmed. She knew she owed her father an explanation, she knew she had to tell him about why she would be leaving before dawn and outline all the things Varric wanted him to do while they were gone. She knew that she should explain why she had indirectly invited Feynriel into their home. She knew she should stop and write that report for the Guard Captain so that her father could bring it to the Keep on the morrow. She knew she should back out of this entire mess now before it dragged her under because she was already floundering and how could she possibly do what Varric was proposing?

Elren returned to the table and gestured to Feynriel, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway, to sit down and partake. The young man did as he was bid, but before he ate he asked Elren, "I am here looking for my mother. Has anyone heard from her?"

"No one has heard from her since the Dalish clan left Sundermount, Son. There was a great deal of unpleasantness toward the end, from how I heard it. They were very keen to get away from here, particularly after the Circle fell." Elren explained apologetically.

Feynriel nodded, "I supposed it was vain to think that she might be here. I had heard about what happened to the Circle."

"Who in Thedas hasn't?" sniffed Elren before looking at the young man somberly, "By that token, though, you must know you can't stay here! Everyone is up-in-arms and terrified of mages. If the Templars caught word that you were here, they would send men into the Alienage. They might raze the place for harboring a mage."

"Then it is as bad as the stories in Tevinter claimed. I had thought, perhaps, it had been the Tevinter mages' penchant to exaggerate the flaws of the Chantry that made the stories sound horrific…did they really conduct the Rite of Annulment at the Circle here?"

"They tried…but the Champion interceded on the mages' behalf…what little good _that_ did," Elren looked very tired and old to Lia all of a sudden.

"It must have done some good," Feynriel insisted, "Serah Hawke always did what was right…he always tried to help people…"

Elren crossed his arms, "...and he ended up losing everything for his troubles. He may have saved Kirkwall and the mages, but now there is very little left for us here…or anywhere for that matter. The trouble has spread. Rogue Templars, Blood Mages, hypocrites all of them! They will destroy the world between them for their little Holy War and the Chantry won't be able to restore order. Seekers arrived this week…_SEEKERS_, mind you! You hear stories about those people, the secret arm of the Chantry, probably worse than Templars…people disappearing without warning…at least Templars will tell you when they are coming…" With that statement Elren stopped abruptly and turned to Lia, as if realization just dawned on him, "Is that why you have Varric's cat? He was taken by the Seekers…"

"He was taken by the Seekers for questioning, but they let him go, Da," Lia reassured him, finally finding her voice amid Elren's ranting, "However he is not staying…and for that matter, neither am I…"

She looked up at her father then, realizing that she no longer had options to run away or change her mind. No one here did. Things would continue to deteriorate unless someone did something. She had no hope to fix anything, but Varric had a plan…she hoped…

"What do you mean?" Elren breathed, looking sad and solemn, as if he already knew but needed to hear her say it.

"Varric is going in search of Serah Hawke. He says…he believes that something might be done to stem the tide that is coming. If things do not change, everything here will crumble. We have no Champion, we have no Viscount, we just have rot and decay and rubble and factions trying to prevent the whole powder keg from exploding by guarding a very short fuse. Things that have happened here have spread across Thedas. If something is not done…" she balled her little hands into fists so hard that they quivered, "I can't sit in the ruins waiting to be rescued, Da! Something must be done…"

"But why must it be you to do it?" he insisted.

"It is not me that will do it, but I have to _do_ something rather than wait for the demons to come or the swords to cut me down…" she shook her head and looked at her father for a long time, "Da, there are some things that Varric will need you to look after while we are gone." With that, she pulled forth the letters that she had tucked between her padding and breastplate so they would not be dropped and lost. Lia slid them across the table to her father with Varric's letter of explanation and instruction at the top. Elren picked it up gingerly and read it, his brow furrowed and his mouth in a tight line.

After a few moments he looked up at her again, "Do you think I should do this?"

"Varric assures me that it is nothing illegal and it will help provide for you while I am gone…" Lia could feel a lump swelling in her throat and taste the prickles of tears at the back of her mouth, but she refused to cry.

"The cat…there is a boy that will look after the cat? Why not just leave the cat here with me?"

Lia shrugged, "Varric was specific about that. The boy has to take care of the cat, but if you could check up on it, just in case; that would probably be welcome. The bartender at the Hanged Man will send the boy to you. If he does not come then you can probably take care of the cat…I don't know, Da. It seems like foolishness to me, but I don't pretend to know what goes through that dwarf's head. He speaks in what seems like riddles half the time."

"Very well," Elren conceded, "then you are leaving tomorrow…"

"Can I come?" Feynriel interrupted, looking at Lia meaningfully.

She frowned, "It is not for me to say, Feynriel…"

"Your father is right, I can't stay here or Templars could attack the Alienage if it were rumored that I am sheltering here. You are going to find Serah Hawke. You might need a healer and I am not too shabby as a battle mage, if I do say so myself," he straightened slightly.

"I don't know where Varric plans to go…and you wanted to find your mother…" Lia offered thinly, unsure if her reluctance was for fear of Feynriel's safety or something else.

"Serah Hawke was close with the clan, he might have some idea where they have gone…and, even if he doesn't, like you said: this chaos is spreading. If someone refuses to act then people will be endangered: people like me and people like my mother, people like the elves here in the Alienage will be caught in the middle. I left Tevinter because I could not sit idly by, but I didn't know what I could do. I came here because this is where everything started and I was concerned…but I know that I can go with you and help you. Please let me go with you!" Feynriel was insistent, his eyes shining and earnest.

Lia threw up her hands. How could she argue? His reasons were sound, his intentions were good, though she wondered if they were painting red targets upon themselves, begging for the Templars to attack them.

It was as if Feynriel could hear her thoughts, "I can be subtle. I can wear armor instead of robes. I don't even wear robes. I prefer tunics and breeches. I would only cast if it were absolutely necessary. I've also learned how to use a blade. I can help you…_please_…"

"Very well, you may accompany me to meet Varric before sunrise, but I make no guarantees as to his reaction…" she made a sweeping motion with her hand and got up from the table without having touched her stew, "Sorry, Da, I have to write a letter reporting to the Guard Captain, explaining this situation if I can. If you could deliver it to the Keep in the morning, after we are safely gone, that would ease my mind a tick."

Lia went to her little closet of a room and allowed the curtain to fall across the doorway.

Elren rubbed his hand across his eyes, "Just like her mother, that one! The course is set for good or ill. You will leave on the morrow."

"I didn't mean to upset her…" Feynriel began to apologize before Elren cut him off.

"She has been like this for months. While the Champion and the Templars fought at the Circle she had been helping the rest of the city guards try to protect people from the rampaging Templars and turned mages. She saw a woman transform right before her eyes when she tried to help her, even then she tried to reason, I think she hoped she might turn back, be human again…she had to kill her in the end. The Templars were so blind with rage, they lashed out at anyone, accusing them of being mages, even if they weren't…she tried to protect people amid the madness…sometimes it wasn't enough…" he sighed, "She needs to go…she could never stay with the echoes and the blood still staining the cobbles in places. I know she isn't a little girl anymore…but I can't help wishing…that I could take away the horror. I wish that I could still protect her, though I know she is capable, though I trust her and know her to be able to manage…"

"It is hard for parents…isn't it?" Feynriel asked, thinking of his own mother's vain attempts to protect him.

Elren chuckled a little at that, "Always, and it never gets any easier! After that man…after I thought I had lost her…she returned to me. However she wasn't the same. She came home and insisted on learning to wield a sword. Perhaps part of her wanted to protect me rather than just worrying about protecting herself. It was the same when she came back after the Chantry was destroyed and it all fell apart."

Feynriel looked at Elren, unsure of what to say or how to reassure him, but the older man suddenly asked, "Promise you'll look after her…I can't…it's not…I trust her and know she will make right, but promise me just the same. Do what you can. Don't let her forget herself or where she came from…"

The young man felt himself nodding, though he wasn't sure how apt he was to the task or if Lia would even let him. She wasn't the same little girl who followed him around the Alienage. If he tried to clean her scrapes now she might be tempted to skewer him for his trouble. He would strive to do his best in this instance.

Elren got up, went to a chest in the corner, and pulled out some blankets before placing them on a bench by the fireplace, "Finish your stew. I cannot offer you a bed, for we have little by way of comforts, as you no doubt remember, but you can have blankets and a place by the fire."

"I have become accustomed to sleeping out of doors on my journey to get here, Serah. Blankets by a fire are the peak of luxury to me at this point," Feynriel reassured the man.

"It is just `Elren' to you, Son. I knew you when you were still in short breeches and we are far from strangers," the older man chided with a smirk, "just get some rest. You will be on a different journey before the sun is up tomorrow and my daughter will not be patient with you if you dawdle. She keeps a guard's habits and she is painfully punctual. The pain will be yours if you are not!"


End file.
